


A Cinematic Love Story

by fireroasted



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hollywood, F/F, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 17:53:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12709965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fireroasted/pseuds/fireroasted
Summary: It's no secret that up-and-coming new actress Emma Swan is a big fan of Regina Mills.





	A Cinematic Love Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Eoxie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eoxie/gifts).



> This story was inspired by the kiss between Kate Winslet and Allison Janney.
> 
> Disclaimers: This story was originally written for my best friend. I have adapted this story for my own fandom, Mamamoo, over at AsianFanfics. It has been posted under the same username, and Side A is very similar. Side B, however, is completely different. 
> 
> Even though we are in different fandoms, we will always ride or die together. 
> 
> I hope I did Swanqueen justice :)

SIDE A

Emma fidgeted in her seat.

Nearly a year ago, the young actress held no hope for success when she burst into auditions on a drunken dare—never in her dreams had she expected to be sitting in a velvet-covered auditorium filled to the brim with Hollywood’s tightest dresses and primmest suits.

“Are you alright?” Emma turned to the woman beside her and recognized her immediately as the lead actress in last year’s Oscar-award-winning animation. The poignant story of a bunny and a fox overcoming racial inequality in an allegorical masterpiece had moved Emma to tears. She could recite the movie back and forth, but in that moment, all she could do was gape—partially to suppress her inner cinephile, and partially because despite how much she loved the film, she could not remember the actress’s name.

“Miss Swan?”

A celebrity was saying her name! Oh God, she knew her name, her frantic mind screamed. Outwardly, her lips pressed into a thin smile. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said calmly.

“Is it your first time at these events?”

Emma nodded. “It’s, uh, not really my thing.”

There were no words to convey how much Emma loathed these fancy events. When she received the invitation a few months ago, she had scoffed and nearly tore the envelope in two. Film, she argued, was an art form. These events were an insult to the craft, and, as she told her producer, “A day for all the rich assholes to stroke each other’s dicks.” Her producer had cringed, then said five little words that changed everything:

“Regina Mills will be there.”

So here she was.

And sure enough, two rows down, exactly five seats to the right, poised perfectly below the chandelier, was Regina Mills. Emma sighed in her direction.

Before Regina Mills, Emma was a regular film buff. The kind who could recite lines, and rhapsodize about the mise-en-scene without ever remembering an actor’s name—they were just part of the art, she said, why should they get all the accolades? But smoldering, perfect Regina Mills, two-time Academy Award nominee with a twenty-three-film track record, introduced Emma to the world of _obsession._

The actress was, by all accounts, an underdog in the world of sparkle and glamour, but if anyone asked Emma, Regina Mills was perfect. Not only was she talented and professional, she was charitable, an amazing mother, and melted her cool exterior just for her fans. She couldn’t tell you why all of these factors mattered, but if anyone contested these facts, she would fight them tooth and nail. Regina Mills was perfect.

The drunk dare, in fact, had been a ridiculous attempt to get over her obsession. Unexpectedly, Emma found that she had great talent for acting, and quickly garnered a small but loyal following. She was well-known for being unfiltered in the public sphere, and her fans felt a great affinity for the up-and-coming Hollywood bad girl.

Well, that and Emma knew exactly how the fans felt, and they loved that. In fact, they cheered her on every step of the way. Maybe a little too much so.

It was no secret that Emma was crazy about Regina Mills. Last February, she had sat in her apartment with sweating palms, surrounded by brown bottles as her shaking fingers tweeted “Happy birrthday!” at the actress’s official handle. She then spent the rest of her day kicking herself for the ridiculous typo while her loyal fans gathered as many likes as possible in an attempt to get Regina’s attention. Emma could still remember the way her heart soared when she received a reply: “Thank you. I love your work.”

God, Emma loved her fans.

She must’ve read it a million times. In fact, she even contemplated printing out the tweet and framing it, but her last shreds of dignity held her back.

Suddenly, the lights dimmed. Emma looked to the woman beside her, realizing just then that she had been so busy gawking longingly at Regina Mills that she’d completely shut down her down. She sighed once more, briefly lamenting her lost chance at befriending a celebrity because she was too busy pining over a woman two rows down, much too far away for her short reach.

The host crossed the stage to proceed with the ceremony. Unimpressed, Emma dozed off during the opening monologue. In fact, she slept through most of the awards, and would have continued sleeping soundly in her seat with her arms crossed if it weren’t for a sudden burning light in her eyes.

Jolting awake, she cursed under her breath. The white light filled her vision as she heard her name being called from far away. She couldn’t see the hundreds of eyes watching her, but somehow felt the prickle of their gaze uncomfortably against her. A brief moment of mortification flashed through her mind as she pictured Regina Mills watching her rub the sleep out of her eyes.

“The award for Best New Actress goes to Emma Swan!” The presenter repeated.

Applause and cheering filled Emma’s ears. She awkwardly wiped a bit of saliva from the corner of her lips with the back of her hand, then slipped out of the row of theatre seats and down the steps toward the stage. It was fucking surreal. She wondered whether she was still dreaming. Would her friends laugh at her now for being a part of a system she once hated? She was so deep in her disbelief as she crossed the stage that she paid no attention to any other living beings around her. It was only when she reached the glass podium that she recognized the perfectly coifed head that she had spent so much of the evening familiarizing herself with.

Regina Mills, her soul squeaked at her in high-frequency panic. It’s Regina fucking Mills, the epitome of beauty, grace, and talent. The woman of her dreams. Oh God, it’s Regina Mills. She stopped, several steps shy of the podium, and froze, as if she would pass out as soon as she stepped closer.

Regina blinked back at her, and extended the trophy in her hand.

The crowd was still cheering, perhaps. Emma couldn’t hear a thing over the beating of her own heart.

When Emma made no move to receive the trophy, Regina furrowed her brows. She stepped forward and grabbed the young actress by the wrist to position her in front of the podium. Emma woke up at the light touch, and blushed, mumbling her apology as she grabbed the trophy just a bit too aggressively in her flustered state.

“Uhm,” she said into the microphone, flinching a little at the sound of her own voice echoing, “Thank you so much.” She ran through a list of people she wanted to thank as she grappled to recall the hastily composed speech her agent had made her write. Finally, she took a breath. “This is just the beginning of my journey, but I feel so honoured to be in this room with so many amazing talents.” Unable to recall any other names, she blurted, “L-like Regina Mills!” She turned to her with a nervous grin. The woman responded with a quirk of an eyebrow, though she looked decidedly amused. “You are such an inspiration and I just want to be you. I know you don’t know me very well aside from that one time I wished you happy birthday on Twitter—not that I’m expecting you to remember—but, y’know, you’re super great and I just want to be you.” Her eyes flicked down to Regina’s smirking lips. “Or, like, touch you in a totally not creepy way. Or kiss you. Something like that. Anyway, I—”

Regina stepped into her space and leaned into the microphone. “That could be arranged,” she said in a low purr. 

The crowd roared.

Emma was about to pinch herself when Regina gently held her jaw and kissed her—bold, confident, and with enough heat to melt Emma from the inside out. So much so that she was sure she blacked out for a moment afterwards.

The crowd went wild with Emma’s beating heart.

When she was seated again, people all around her congratulated her. She thanked them automatically, but if not for the glass trophy in her hand, she never would’ve believed it was real. She brought a finger to her lips, then looked on at the familiar place two rows down.

Regina Mills was back in her seat.

This time, their eyes met.

 

SIDE B

On a crisp, winter afternoon, Regina sat in the nook of her study with a steaming mug of tea as she admired the snow-covered trees outside. A pair of sparrows flew by to perch on the branch outside her window. She sighed contently, a small smile playing on her lips—it has been far too long since she was able to enjoy the simple pleasures of silence.

Unfortunately, the moment was short-lived. A quick patter of footsteps tore through the house, jolting her out of the illusion of peace. But still her smile did not falter. Instead, it simply grew bigger as a messy brown head swept into the room.

“Henry?” Regina asked with a slight tilt of her head.

Her son’s eyes were wide as he clutched the doorframe, barely able to hold his excitement.

“What’s wrong, darling?”

“M-mom.” He took a several deep breaths before he could continue. “My movie. It’s out. It’s out, it’s out, it’s out!” He rushed forward to embrace his mother, whose joy flowed forth as their rich, musical laughter filled the room.

It was a moment Regina would never forget.

Henry Mills was the prodigal son and a genius writer, infamous for his rich imaginative stories and mature, well-rounded dialogue. At least, he was famous among his peers. It had been a hard battle to have the 13-year-old’s voice heard by anyone other than gushing teachers and youth-driven magazines. The adult world was simply not ready, Regina had told her son.

It was no small miracle when someone finally picked up Henry’s script, which had, contrary to popular belief, very little to do with his mother’s successes in the industry. Regina will never forget all the happy tears they cried together, huddled in the kitchen with her phone in hand, when they said that they were going to bring his story to screen.

As Regina sat in the over-cushioned theatre seats of the movie’s premiere, she could not recall ever feeling so happy in her life. And as she looked over at her grinning son in his adorable suit and tie, a warm feeling bubbled. She didn’t think she’d ever stop smiling.

It was almost surreal.

Little did Regina know, her life was about to take yet another turn as the opening credits began. The simple monochromatic sequence unfolded predictably with a sweeping aerial pan, and a slow zoom into the city.

The camera dove into through a perfectly centered window, then onto the expressionless face of a girl. The girl’s face in the frame against the white wallpaper behind her—the strong features, and the high cheekbones rounding out the symmetry of the shot—she had never seen such a thing of beauty.

Regina leaned a little closer.

Beside her, Henry turned to watch her mother’s enraptured face with piqued interest. He smiled to himself briefly, then turned his attention back to his film. As the movie picked up speed, he began to mouth along to the dialogue, and soon, he had all but forgotten the strange look on her mother’s face.

“Amazing,” Regina said that evening, as she and her son crossed their grand lobby toward the elevator. “That was tremendously well-done, dear. You truly did a fantastic job on that script.”

Henry gave the concierge a quick wave before replying. “Yeah, but…I don’t know.”

“What’s wrong? Were you not happy with the final result?” Regina said, gently brushing her son’s cheek with a finger. Henry shook his head, though he did not flinch away from her touch like he used to, much to her secret relief.

“I guess it was just different,” he mumbled, staring down at his shoes as they rode the elevator up to their floor. “Wasn’t how I imagined it.”

“What didn’t you like, dear?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” Henry said, furrowing his brows, “it was just really different. I can’t explain it.” Regina brushed the back of his head in what she hoped to convey as a gesture of understanding. “Um, I liked the main actress a lot though.”

“Oh? Who is she?” Regina asked as coolly as she could. Truth be told, she had been thinking about the captivating presence of the new actress for quite some time, and was only too pleased that Henry brought her up. In the wake of Henry’s conflicted feelings however, she was extra wary of her overexcitement as they stepped into the threshold of their apartment.

“Don’t you know, like, everyone, Mom?” Henry said, rolling his eyes as he hung his coat on the coat rack. Regina cringed a little at the way her son’s language was developing, but decided it would be best not to voice her concerns now. She simply shook her head.

“Well, the credits said her name is Emma Swan,” she said calmly as if she hadn’t been rolling the name in her mind for the last several hours.

Henry sent her a strange look with implications she had no desire to unpack.

“Well, then. Shall I make lasagna tonight?”

\--

For Regina’s New Year’s resolution, she resolved to overcome technology.

On this particular day, two weeks before her birthday, Regina was once again seated in the nook of her study, both legs folded neatly under her as she tried to figure out the secrets of the phone in her hands. The universes contained within never ceased to amaze her, but right now, the wall between her and the digital world seemed insurmountably infinite.

And so, she did what any technologically-challenged mother would do in lieu of throwing the device out the window: she called her son.

“Mom, you already have an account. Your agent made it for you, remember? I don’t understand what you’re trying to do,” Henry sighed. It was his fifth sigh since he had curled up beside his mother five minutes ago.

“I want to use this thing like everyone else,” Regina sighed.

“Everyone uses Twitter for different reasons, Mom,” Henry groaned. “How about you write a Tweet for your fans? All you have are your boring ads for your movies and stuff. Someone else must’ve written those.”

Regina squinted. She followed Henry’s finger to the quill symbol. “I press this…” she mumbled. “Do I just…write something here?”

“Yeah.”

“What should I say?”

Henry sighed. “Anything. Just say hi or something.”

_@ReginaMills: Hello, everyone._

“Wow, Mom, that was super lame.”

Nevertheless, this simple Tweet marked a momentous occasion in Regina’s life, one in which she discovered the true power of celebrity. The next morning, her phone blew up. Thousands upon thousands lit up the little heart in her simple message, while hundreds more greeted her right back in reply. While she did not fully understand the implications then and there, she was shocked to find the power of being seen and heard so addictive.

In the weeks to follow, Regina’s journey through Twitter opened up new worlds. She was amazed that she could converse with fans around the world. Perhaps even more fascinating was the world of fan creation. Her characters from her previous movies, and by default herself, had been reimagined innumerable times in art and literature—It was astounding!

In addition to the beautiful portraits, she found pictures of her characters drawn alongside others. It was admittedly strange to see herself in these new, and sometimes uncomfortable, angles with her colleagues and friends, but there was a kind of beauty in her fans’ dedication as well. Though she did not actively search out these fan creations, she was certainly impressed with their existence.

One day, as Regina was scrolling through what she now knew as her “feed,” she came across a message from a fan that seemed to be a part of a larger conversation. “Don’t worry,” it said, “@ReginaMills will see how much you love her one day!” Normally, she would’ve scrolled right by, but something compelled her to investigate further.

“Henry?” She called out. Henry padded over with a juice box in hand.

“What now, Mom? I thought you figured out this Twitter thing. You know, people don’t even use Twitter anymore. It’s all Snapchat and Instagram these days.” He sucked loudly through his straw.

“Hush, dear,” Regina said, stroking the back of his head. “I want to see what this person is talking about.”

“Oh, it’s a thread. Just click it. Then scroll all the way up like this.” Henry’s eyes widened as he read the original post. “Woah.”

_@PrincessEmmaNeedsABeer: Regina Mills’ new movie hits this Friday! I’ll be the first in line. Who’s down to worship my queen with me?_

Regina quirked a brow, compelled now to read the conversations that followed. A fan joked about her undying love for Regina, to which she replied, “My love for Regina is not a secret. You should see my room.” Regina gaped at the short message, which were followed by a storm of supportive comments and eventually a photo of someone’s bedroom wall, tastefully decorated with a painting of Regina’s likeness.

“Is that Emma Swan?” Henry asked incredulously. He dove into the profile page and confirmed that it was. “Wow, she really likes you, Mom.”

“It appears that way.”

“What’s up with her name?”

“Perhaps she really needed a beer when she made her account.”

Emma Swan was immensely interesting, and Regina had a feeling that this was still only the beginning. A whirl of conflicting emotions began to brew and, perhaps scariest of all, she found herself feeding the strange feelings as she followed Emma Swan quite closely after that. The girl was bold, to say the least. She watched her interactions with her fans as if she were eavesdropping on conversations between old friends. It was quickly apparent that she was quite famous for being a big fan of Regina’s work. Fans even created art and literature surrounding the both of them, including salacious depictions that burned the tips of her ear. Even so, one quickly led to another, and Regina found that she could not stop seeking them out.

On her birthday. Regina received an innumerable number of notifications, but only one caught her eye.

_@PrincessEmmaNeedsABeer: Happy birrthday to @ReginaMills!_

Regina chuckled. Perhaps Princess Emma had one too many beers, she thought.

It would be no exaggeration to say that it took the better part of an hour for Regina to decide how to reply to the brief message. Between the deliberation, and internal turmoil, she finally went with the diplomatic response: “Thank you. I love your work.”

She would spend days, if not weeks, kicking herself for the formal and cold response, but in truth she was not sure how to feel about the eager, young actress. While she was undoubtedly flattered and very much moved by her enthusiasm, she was more than curious to see the extent of Emma’s so-called love.

In wondering what Emma saw in her, Regina came to terms with the fact that there were many different kinds of attraction in the world. All she could hope for now was that Emma Swan’s attraction was the same as her own.

Luckily, barely a month later, she received an invitation in the mail. Not only was she invited to attend one of the most prestigious award shows of the year, she was also invited to present the award for Best Costume. She quickly scanned the list of nominees as she waited for her coffee to brew that morning, and immediately smiled when she saw Emma’s name on the cream-coloured cardstock. Best New Actress. Her heart thumped like a schoolgirl’s, and she willed it to calm down to no avail.

“What’s the use of fighting it?” She grumbled to no one in particular.

And so, she abandoned her coffee to make her calls.

“I must present the Best New Actress award. Make it happen.”

On the night of the award show, Emma Swan sat exactly two rows above and five seats to the left of Regina. Even from afar, her presence was electric. Regina tapped her fingers on her armrest, resisting the urge to look as the butterflies stirred in her stomach. When it was her turn, she stood, and looked back to see the young actress sleeping in her seat. She resisted the urge to scoop her up and run out of the stuffy hall with the lightly snoring woman in her arms. That would just be a far too public way to demand her private attention.

When Emma met her eyes for the first time on that stage, it was as if time stood still and they were the only two people in the room. Suddenly the trophy in her hand was meaningless, and all she wanted in the world was right in front of her, embodied in a virtual stranger who radiated undoubtedly pure love from her eyes.

When Emma made her speech, declared her challenge, and allowed Regina to claim her lips, it was as if everything was falling into place. Brief as the encounter was supposed to be, Emma felt familiar, and her taste was so inviting. It seemed to be the biggest pity in the world that she had to let her go, and she knew from Emma’s ruddy cheeks that she must’ve felt the same.

The crowd roared, bringing them back to earth, back to the reality of blinding lights and countless cameras feeding live footage of their kiss to the world. Regina Mills had a lot of explaining to do in the morning.

Poor Henry, she thought briefly.

When they returned to their seat and their eyes met once more, Regina knew that she had to follow her instincts. Emma had declared her love across cyberspace and now, in front of the world, it was her turn to reply.

She took out her phone, and waved it a little for the other woman to see.

Emma scrambled for her own phone.

_@ReginaMills: @PrincessEmmaNeedsABeer – Thank you for the kiss, dear._

Regina looked up from her phone. Two rows above and five seats away, Emma had shot up from her seat, lips pressed tightly, fists at her side as she tried to contain the excitement that radiated from her pink cheeks. Eyes turned to look at her, but she didn’t care. Even when someone, somewhere, pulled her down, her eyes never strayed from Regina’s.

Finally, Emma smile slowly spread into a wide, mischievous grin that took her breath away.

_@PrincessEmmaNeedsABeer: So how about round 2?_

Regina smirked.

_@ReginaMills: How about dinner first?_

 


End file.
